


bye, bye, my blue

by consumed



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Friends to Friends With Benefits to Lovers, M/M, Mentions of Sex, Roommates, Suna Rintarō is a textbook Aquarius, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:22:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27326503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/consumed/pseuds/consumed
Summary: He had missed him in the only way Rintarō can miss Osamu. He realizes this belatedly, as he does with the rest of the things that come to matter to him.A surge of loneliness comes for him in Osamu’s presence and despite it. His best friend, his roommate, is here, but he is distant, someone else’s for the night and not Rintarō's.Rintarō is irrelevant at this moment, a best friend: a distant thing.
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Comments: 1
Kudos: 38
Collections: Haikyuu Angst Week 2020





	bye, bye, my blue

**“** Home!” Rintarō shouts, announcing his arrival. The apartment he shares with Osamu has been tidied in his absence. The knowledge that he offered no part in what would rightfully be considered a partnered task makes him cringe. He steps out of his shoes and leaves them on the shoe rack by the door. Shrugs out of his coat and places it on the coat hanger. He heads for Osamu’s door with the intention to apologize and hang around his room for idle chatter if it’s any consolation for his absence.

The clock on the wall adjacent reads six thirty-two in the evening. Rintarō palms the side of his neck, fingers resting on the love bite that mars his skin. He hadn’t protested when his date had laid it on him, but he had hissed, as he does now, in disapproval. He hates having to hide these things, but it has to be done, for self-preservation.

He raps his knuckles on the door panel. Three strikes, and then he waits.

After a second, Osamu’s face appears to greet him before the rest of his body comes into view as the door cracks wider open. He dons that ivory rayon shirt of his he favors with the first three buttons undone, and with this, Rintarō gets to appreciate the exposed skin from his chest to his collarbones to the line of his neck. Osamu’s hair is wet, fresh from a shower, parted on the left as always. He looks clean. Rintarō wants to ruin him. But more than that, he looks ready to leave.

The apology withers on Rintarō’s tongue, replaced by the words, “Going somewhere?” He likes to project a cool demeanor no matter the situation and he finds no reason to go about this differently.

Osamu’s already returned to his post in front of the mirror where Rintarō guessed he was at before he welcomed him into his room. Rintarō pads softly inside as Osamu answers him, distractedly, eyes trained on his reflection. “Date,” is all he musters and it’s enough to start a fire in Rintarō.

He had missed him in the only way Rintarō can miss Osamu. He realizes this belatedly, as he does with the rest of the things that come to matter to him. He had already imagined spending the night on Osamu’s bed, chattering idly to him about any topic that would arise. Then he would fall asleep and that would only come to be because Osamu would let him. He would let him sleep on his bed because Rintarō wanted to.

Rintarō sits down on the edge of the aforementioned bed and watches Osamu button up his shirt. A surge of loneliness comes for him in Osamu’s presence and despite it. His best friend, his roommate, is here, but he is distant, someone else’s for the night and not Rintarō’s. Rintarō is acutely aware of the fact that he had been out all day fucking someone else, but even then, he had Osamu. So why does loneliness choose this moment, this situation, to impose itself on him?

_Because you know he likes you, but now he doesn’t. He chooses someone else now, over you._ Rintarō is irrelevant at this moment, a best friend: a distant thing. He looks at Osamu and sees the image of a wet face in the summer rain, mouth moving in confession.

_I like you, Rin_ is what a three months younger Osamu said to a version of him from that past. Rintarō was in the midst of sportively hitting his shoulder because only one of them brought an umbrella that day and Osamu had taken Rintarō’s in jest before he managed to take it back, fighting him for it. They were both soaked when he did, but were too caught up in the fun of it to care. _‘Course you like me. We’re friends,_ is what he said in response, breathless. The novelty of the situation, the shift in their relationship came down on him heavily and it scared the shit out of him. He hadn’t thought past their friendship. It simply hadn’t occurred to him. He wasn’t ready. _You know what I mean, right?_ Osamu asked, prolonging the conversation. They stopped walking some time ago and Rintarō felt helpless, his facade cracking. _I know what you mean,_ he tried to answer through the sliver of cool he had left. There was a _but_ that hung in the air between them, following the words he couldn’t muster. Osamu gazed at him for long and acted like it was enough, letting it be enough, before he resumed walking.

In the days that followed, they had silently agreed to forget it ever occurred. In the silence, Rintarō wanted to scream at Osamu. _Why me? I can’t love you like that._ He couldn’t see it. _You deserve far better than me, Samu._ He deserves someone who had always known it in themselves that they could love him greater than Rintarō could. He doesn’t want to have to force a love out of himself, fabricate it and give it to Osamu in return. That love wouldn’t be true. Instead, this love that had always existed between them, safe in the hands of friendship, is.

Five days after, Rintarō was convinced he’d gone mad and searched up gay night clubs in the area. When he found one to his preference, he dressed up: a sleeveless black crop top over grey relax-legged trousers and white sneakers. He adorned his eyes with red liner. When he’d been slipping his feet into his shoes, Osamu’s voice said _You leavin’?_ from where he sat on the couch, watching television. Rintarō didn’t look back at him, too much of a coward to do so. Still, he managed a _Yeah, see ya later,_ slipping his arms into his blazer before turning the knob of the door and stepping outside. In the hours that followed, he had hooked up with a stranger, beginning his string of flings.

He didn’t understand it at first. But when his fear manifested, it came like this: felt like retaliation towards Osamu’s confession. It felt like disgust. He didn’t mean it. But he couldn’t stop either. Devotion scared him. And these flings were built upon the opposite of it.

When he returned that night: hair a mess, eyeliner smudged, he found Osamu was still where he had been earlier. Looked like he had woken up just in time for Rintarō’s arrival. The first thing he registered was Osamu’s face: jaw clenched, mouth a thin line, eyes trained on his sorry, sad state. The second thing that came over him was the indignation behind them. Finally, Osamu spoke, breaking the tense silence between them only to fill it with words. _Ya know,_ he had begun lowly, _if you were going to fuck someone else, ya coulda at least have the decency to do it in someone else’s clothes and not in that of someone who told you he likes you._ Rintarō was confused for a few seconds until he glanced down at the blazer and realized it didn’t belong to him, that he had gotten so used to wearing it, he’d forgotten there were rules for these things. He cringed, couldn’t say shit. Coward. Coward. Coward. _I forgot._ Fucking asshole move right there. _Sorry._ Osamu’s expression mirrored his: helpless. Hopeless. _Just clean it tomorrow morning,_ he said in lieu of a goodbye. _And wash your fucking face,_ he murmured to himself when he had reached the door to his bedroom, but still, Rintarō heard him.

When the memory leaves him in the present, Rintarō rises from Osamu’s bed and walks towards him in measured steps. He stops right behind him, the space thin between them. Osamu visibly freezes. Rintarō grits his teeth. Tries. Just _tries_. “Samu,” he begins for the sake of it, looking at his face in the mirror.

Osamu meets his gaze, says, “Yeah?” But he’s not listening, or, he doesn’t want to. He’s already looked away, pretending to fix his hair again.

Rintarō needs him now more than ever, wants him now more than ever. It’s unfair. “Don’t go on your date.” He’s unfair.

Osamu knows this, they both know this. “Rin?” It’s a question, but it’s also a warning.

“Stay with me.” Rintarō begs with every second that he spends gazing at him.

Osamu’s face hardens. “You’re cruel.”

Rintarō closes the distance between them, lays his chin on Osamu’s shoulder before wrapping his arms around his front. “Stay,” he says again. But he knows he’s nowhere near saying the right words. He should be saying _I want you_ because it favors Osamu, but all his words do is favor himself.

“I’m not your bitch. Don’t treat me like one.” His words have a bite to them but he doesn’t push Rintarō away. Until he does. It takes him two seconds to gather himself. But he’s gentle about it, tired too, and Rintarō knows it’s his fault. “You reek of sex,” he comments, before walking to his bed to grab his leather jacket. “Don’t wait up.”

Rintarō feels like crying. He fucked himself up, he fucked them up. He knows what he wants. He wants to love Osamu. The day he confessed was the day Rintarō began to desire him, in his own way. Always in his own ways that could never satisfy Osamu, could never favor him. Osamu is leaving him, just for tonight, but he is leaving him nonetheless. It aches and it’s pathetic and raw and overbearing and he collapses on the floor, his body too heavy with the weight of everything he’s done in the past three months. He cries and he does so until Osamu is long gone into the night. He doesn’t wait up. He passes out crying on the floor of his bedroom.

* * *

  
  


In the morning, he wakes in his own bed. There’s a puffiness around his eyes that he knows he can’t rid off this soon himself. Seeing as he’s wearing yesterday’s clothes, he brings himself to shower. He’s in there for fifteen minutes. It isn’t until he shuts the tap off that he allows himself to think about the previous evening. Rintarō knows Osamu is the reason as to why he had found himself on his bed. He imagines being carried, imagines this: the gentle approaches Osamu still takes with him, how their existence outweighs the bite in his words. They come to him in a blur of feeling. His focus lingers on the care and consideration Osamu gives him in spite of his indignation. Osamu has his own battles to fight, apart from those he holds against Rintarō. He’s strong. Rintarō admires this.

When he finishes in the shower and dons his morning clothes, they meet at the kitchen table. Osamu has prepared them both rice bowls with egg. Rintarō’s well aware that the act is a product of their arrangement. Osamu’s been teaching him how to cook when they find the opportunity and with one of the instances came the agreement of alternating cooking for the three meals of the day. For breakfast, today, it's Osamu who's in charge.

The thought revisits Rintarō: of deliberately choosing care and consideration in times of hardship. Osamu is strong, and he is soft. Rintarō scoops up rice and brings the spoon to his mouth. Eats his meal and tastes Osamu's intentions on his tongue.

Osamu meets his gaze. "You okay? Last night…" He begins, before drifting off to silence.

"Yeah," Rintarō responds. "Thanks, for taking me to my bed."

"Don't mention it." Osamu shakes his head, watching him as intently.

They're okay. They will be. So they tiptoe around matters, but they share a goal. They come back to each other in only a matter of time. Here are the facts, Rintarō's mind begins, and Osamu's attention on him says: Osamu is strong, and he is soft, and Rintarō admires him.

**Author's Note:**

> may i have a crumb of kudos/comment? if you're looking forward to how their relationship will span out, i invite you to bookmark/subscribe to this fic! hope you have a nice day, dear reader. thank you for reading.
> 
> [twitter](http://twitter.com/closingheart)


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